Friendly Fire
by ShyLight
Summary: G1: Something has been bothering Sunstreaker and Megatron too actually. So, the Lamboformer brings something to light, regarding their battles with the Decepticons, that no one seemed to have noticed before. oneshot


I'm still sick! XD

This is a dumb little snippet I wrote because I had free time and I needed a break from writing my other stories.

I was working on three different things today (namely my other two transformers fics and a new one I'm starting) and a flash animation. My hands, they burn. Man, four fifths of all our troubles in life would disappear if we would just sit down and keep still.

…but then life wouldn't be fun!

Anyway, this question has been bothering me for a long time so I wrote a silly little ficlet about it.

This story, I guess, could take place a little before the '86 movie which I normally refuse to acknowledge in my cannon, but I figure it might help answer some question regarding it's events.

Disclaimer: I don't own. Never will. Plot's mine though.

Onwards to the fic!

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When Bluestreak entered the shooting range he wasn't surprised to see Sunstreaker.

The Lamborghini brothers often visited the range on their free time for various reasons: Sharpening their skills, blowing off steam or simply because they wanted to break something.

What was unusual about the situation was the fact that Sunstreaker wasn't firing. He didn't even have a weapon with him. He just stood there with his arms crossed, glaring at the targets like somehow his stare alone could burn through them.

"Um, Sunstreaker? You don't have a gun with you; do you want to use one of mine?" Bluestreak held out his spare rifle toward Sunstreaker like it was a peace offering.

The golden warrior didn't even acknowledge that he knew the young Datsun was there. He seemed so embroiled in his thoughts that all reality was shut out.

Sunstreaker was contemplating a strange situation that had come to light. It was one of those questions that didn't really have an answer but was asked anyways. There were many questions of these sorts: Why are we here? What is our purpose? Where the hell does Optimus' trailer go when he transforms?

If he asked Prowl the tactician's logic circuits would probably fritz and he would start malfunctioning. If he asked Jazz the saboteur would simply elude the question with some abstract, philosophical crap. The pattern would continue down no matter who he went to, but he still felt he should bring it to the attentions of the others.

"Sunstreaker?" Bluestreak tried gaining the mech's attention.

Sunstreaker turned on his heel, briskly walked past Bluestreak, and exited the firing range just as Smokescreen entered.

Smokescreen looked over his shoulder to see the retreating Lamborghini. Then he looked ahead to see a slightly crestfallen Bluestreak.

Smokescreen reached the young gunner and slapped him on his shoulder playfully. Cheerfully, he grinned and said, "Don't worry about it, Blue. He's probably still frazzled about getting his finish charred in yesterday's battle. By the way, we're starting a card game in the lounge. You wanna come?"

Bluestreak looked at his friend and smiled, "Sure."

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"Argh! You cheat!" Huffer threw his cards down.

"I do not," Jazz responded innocently.

"You've won three times in a row!"

"Ah, Lady Luck, she be a kind mistress to the Jazzmeister." The saboteur grinned in good nature.

"Will both of you shuddup and deal the cards again?" Ironhide grunted taking a swig from his energon cube.

"Yeah. I'd like to beat Jazz at least once for pride's sake," Inferno mumbled.

Skids swiped up the cards off the table, shuffled them and gave every bot two cards down and one card up.

"Hey, Sideswipe! Are you sure you don't want to play?" Wheeljack called to the red warrior.

Sideswipe had his head on a smaller table, and his face was facing the opposite direction of the others. He responded with what sounded like a gurgle, lazily raised one arm, and flopped his hand up and down in motion that indicated 'no' before letting it slump back on to the table.

The others snickered.

"That's what he gets for trying to out-drink Prowl," Brawn chuckled.

Sideswipe weakly raised his arm again and gave his comrades the one fingered salute.

"All right, Kiddos. Place your bets!" Wheeljack declared, and several of the Autobots threw in various numbers of energon chips.

So engrossed in their game no one noticed that Sunstreaker had walked in and plopped himself on the couch. He crossed one leg over the other, rested his elbow on his knee and then dropped his face into his hand. He remained there silently.

Skids passed everyone another card and the betting started again.

"Well that's too rich for my mech fluid. I fold." Trailbreaker dropped his cards onto the table.

"Droppin' out a bit early, 'Breaker? I'll raise two more energon chips." Jazz let the pink discs drop onto the pile with clinks.

"I'll match that. Give me another card, Skids." Wheeljack grabbed a card from the dealer.

"I guess I will too," Huffer grumbled and took a card as well. He eyed it with distaste.

"Not a good hand, Huffer?" Brawn asked with mock sweetness.

"Frag you, Brawn," he growled.

Brawn merely laughed and went back to his own hand.

"I don't get it."

Everyone at the table shot a sideways glance at Sunstreaker before turning their attention back on their game. That was the first thing he had said all night.

"What's there to get? Huffer's bad at card games," Smokescreen murmured as he rearranged his cards.

"Hey!"

"Not that. Do any of you remember the battles on Cybertron?" Sunstreaker asked dully, not lifting his face from his hand.

"More than any of us would like, ah'm sure," grunted Ironhide. He took another drink from his energon cube before grabbing another card to add to his hand.

"We used to battle in regiments, far larger then all of us combined here on Earth, and we would probably lose over half the soldiers in one battle. Not only that but in a short time." Sunstreaker kept his stare straight ahead, and never took his optics off of the wall.

"Jeez, Mister Morbid. What's bringing this up?" Brawn tossed down another card and drew a new one. Growling, he slapped his hand down onto the table. "Nope. I fold."

"Since we've been here on Earth we have not suffered a single casualty. Neither have the Decepticons. Don't any of you think that's strange?" Sunstreaker inquired.

"So?" Inferno snorted. "Primus knows we can't shoot worth slag, and the Decepticons are a bunch of idiots. Oi, give me another card."

Skids handed one to Inferno. Apparently it wasn't very good because he grimaced with distaste.

"Oh, come on! The _elite_ of both sides are here!" Sunstreaker argued.

"And yet, sadly, the point remains," Mirage sighed, drawing a card. His optics brightened slightly and then went back to indifference before anyone caught the expression.

"Hey, you're thinkin' too much about this, Sunny. Just go with the flow and don't worry about it. The less casualties the better, right?" Jazz expression remained unchanged as he got another card, and added another pink coin onto the pile. "I, for one, have no intention of becomin' a statistic. I raise one chip."

"Jazz is right. It's like I say, live forever or die tryin'." Ironhide flipped an energon chip between his fingers before letting it drop into the pot.

The partial attention Sunstreaker had gotten from the others was quickly forgotten and they went back to their betting.

Sunstreaker shot them all a really dirty glare. He did not appreciate being ignored, especially not when he had something important to say.

"Never mind. I think I found a better way to put things in Layman's terms." Sunstreaker stood, pivoted and called, "Sideswipe! Get your aft over here!"

"What do you waaaant?" Sideswipe groaned and pulled his up head from the table. Sluggishly, he slumped out of the chair and dragged himself in front of his brother. "If it's not important I'm changing the access code to our room. You can sleep in the rec room."

Sunstreaker began pulling something out of subspace. "Hey, Sides. Think fast."

The next action definitely secured everyone's undivided attention.

"Wh-" To everyone's horror, before Sideswipe could get out the words, Sunstreaker had flipped his gun at his brother's direction and swiftly fired a shot with deadly accuracy. The red bolt slammed into Sideswipe's chest sending the red melee warrior into the air and back several feet. The trip ended with him landing roughly on his back with a heavy thud.

Several 'Bots immediately stood from their seats. They pulled out their own weapons from subspace and trained them on Sunstreaker.

"What the hell are you doin'?" Ironhide roared at the younger mech.

"You psychopath! That was your brother!" Mirage screamed, appalled.

Everyone watched the golden warrior fearfully as he began moving again. To everyone's surprise, Sunstreaker re-subspaced his gun and crossed his arms.

He stood and watched his fallen brother.

"Have you lost your flippen mind!" Sideswipe, suddenly revitalized with a new and angry vigor, sat up screaming. Several Autobot's jumped back in surprise at his quick, miraculous recovery. With a wince, the melee warrior gripped his tingling chest plate and shot an evil glare in his brother's direction. "What the hell was that for you fragger?"

"Stop whining. You're alive aren't you?" Sunstreaker snapped.

"Yeah I…" A revelation hit Sideswipe. He looked down at his glossy, red chest armor where he had been shot. "I am. Actually that didn't even leave a mark. Still hurt like a mother though. Oh my head." Sideswipe's hangover caught up to him with a vengeance. He moaned and cradled his aching cranial unit.

"Do you all see my point?" Sunstreaker asked, turning to the others in the room. "What the slag is wrong with our weaponry? We've been shooting at each other for years, and nothing has been happening. I get more damaged tripping over my own feet then getting hit by Decepticon lasers! In fact, almost every time I've had to go to the med bay had been because of hand to hand combat."

Sunstreaker was right. There had been several times that they had shot down Decepticons with what should have been fatal shots only for said Decepticons to appear again the next battle. There were also times that they themselves had been gunned down only to get up with minimal injuries. It was just that no one had ever really noticed before.

None of them had the answer.

The Autobots stood in silence not sure what to make of the sudden revelation.

…except for Jazz who hadn't moved at all during the whole fiasco. He set down his cards lightly and smiled, "Sorry boys. Looks like I win this round. A royal flush of spades."

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_Meanwhile…_

"I just don't _get it_."

Megatron, mighty leader of the Decepticons, was pacing the empty command room. He was baffled, perplexed, mystified, bemused and several other synonyms of the word confused. "I shot him at point blank! That insolent worm should have died! What Autobot treachery could this be?"

It made no sense. The arrogant, yellow fool, Slumleaker or whatever his name was, had been only four Earth meters away. Only four! Megatron could remember the previous day's battle clearly.

Megatron had had the 'Bot in sight and lined up his gun to point directly where he knew the warrior's spark was. He grinned evilly as he watched the Autobot's optics widen with shock as he tried to backpedal away from the cannon's line of fire.

The warrior had barely lifted his foot off the ground by the time Megatron had fired.

There was an explosion of violet light and the Autobot crumpled to the ground in a smoking heap. Megatron lowered his weapon and smirked as he watched plumes of smoke lift from the smoldering chest of the warrior. However, the smirk melted off his face and was replaced by bewilderment when the Autobot did something that all logic dictated should have been impossible under the given circumstances.

He sat up.

The Autobot seemed as surprised as Megatron had. He glanced down at his chest plate to see it was scraped and ashen. Yet there was no gaping hole or some other horrible injury which he, and Megatron, had been expecting.

When he looked up incredulous blue optics met confused red. The two stared at each other silently for a long period. For just a moment the two mechs were on the same wavelength, and one thought went through the tyrant's and the grunt's mind simultaneously.

'_What the hell?'_

Megatron watched as the yellow one rose steadily, never taking his blue optics off of his chest. When the Autobot reached his full height he slowly looked back at Megatron and the two began the staring again.

Wordlessly the two walked away from each other with a silent agreement hanging in the air.

'_This never happened.'_

That scenario filled him with unease. The more he thought about it how many times had he gunned down the Autobots only for them to magically respawn again the next battle? The vermin would not stay dead!

It could be some new technology. Perhaps created by that mad scientist of theirs, Wheeljack he remembered it being, but then again that probably was giving them way too much credit. The only other logical answer to the problem was something was wrong on the Decepticon's side.

The Decepticon leader was broken out of his thoughts when his commlink crackled to life. The monotonous voice of his communications specialist filled the quiet room.

"Megatron. Your presence is needed immediately," Soundwave requested evenly.

"Do you have the diagnostics?" Megatron demanded brusquely.

"Yeah, we have um. You should really see this, Boss," Rumble's voice crackled through the link laced with…amusement?

"I'll be there immediately." Megatron shut off the link and began his stride to Starscream's laboratory. There was dread in his spark fearing the stupidity he was about to, no doubt, come upon.

When he reached the cluttered lab, he saw Soundwave standing stone still, the Casseticon twins snickering quietly and Starscream with his arms crossed and a scowl across his face. No doubt because of how, 'his talent had been wasted on such a stupid and trivial assignment'.

"We have the diagnostics of all of the Decepticon's armaments, oh _Mighty Leader_," the disloyal jet spat with sarcasm in his shrill voice.

Megatron narrowed his optics. He was only holding back his twitching desire to lay into his second in command for the sole reason that he wanted to find out what was wrong with their weaponry. "Do not play games, Starscream. What is wrong with our artillery?"

"We're Decepticons, and we never use this setting so it figures we never bothered to check. Also, I'm sure that the Autobot's have the same problem since it is regulation on a starship during travel..." Starscream all but rolled his optics in exasperation at what he was about to say.

"Get to the point!" Megatron seethed.

"Apparently, since we forgot to turn it off after we awoke from our 4 million year long stasis, we've been fighting the Autobots all these years with the _safety_ switched on all of our weapons."

There was stillness. It was quickly filled with the sounds of Megatron slapping his hand over his optics, and Rumble and Frenzy laughing their skid plates off.

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...because up until the cartoon movie laser fire did about as much damage as water balloons.


End file.
